"Darwin."

Sven inclines his head, the shadows accentuating his angled jawline. He regards me with careful stolidity, his eyes flickering as he takes one slow step forward. Then he points outside, his demeanor changing faster than the waterline before a tsunami, so that I can't tell if his next words are a continuation, or a completely separate thought.

"That's what we swore, right?" He brings his hands out to his sides in a question. A smile graces his face. "Until death?"

I narrow my eyes, settling into a half-crouch. Death. For some reason, I can't comprehend that word. It exists for other people; I understand what it means, for them. I've seen it. But in all the possible outcomes I've anticipated for myself, it never makes an appearance.

"You lied." My voice comes out gravelly, deeper than I expect.

"Well." Sven looks at the ground. "It was my death, after all, that would have done the parting. That's a lot of pressure. But...." He returns his gaze to me, smile still in place. Despite the tension between us, there's something genuine behind it. "I missed you. I'm glad you came. Although"—he nods toward the outside again, indicating the bodies below—"you don't need grand gestures to win me over."

A pulse of fuzzy adrenaline makes me lightheaded, a flicker of red overlaying my vision for half a second. I lurch forward, but Sven holds out his hand, palm up. It meets my face, cupping perfectly against my jaw, and I stop. He traces the line of my cheekbone with his thumb, and the pounding inside of me ceases, just for a moment. The pads of his fingers tap a gentle, comforting pattern on the back of my neck.

"You were almost perfect," he murmurs, and I can't unlock my eyes from his because I see all of my memories, every last one, in their pale blue.

Then he closes them, and his shoulders sink as he sighs, and suddenly I feel electricity between us. Not the electricity we used to have—the passionate, desperate kind—but a literal spark, a sizzle burning from his fingertips to my skin. His image stutters, like a TV losing reception—bars of color jerking in opposite directions, pulling his body into grotesque shapes. I hit the ground, my limbs rigid and unmoving. My jaw is clenched shut by some force outside of my control. All I can do is blink up at him as he leans over me, his eyes slowly hardening into something less than human.

"Almost doesn't count."

*    *    *

"Ronnie. Ronnie, wake up!"

I lurch upright in bed, knocking foreheads with Sven, who is leaning down on me, shaking me by the shoulders. He yelps, clutching his temple, and I scramble under the sheets, getting my legs tangled in them as I try to escape. It only sends my heart pounding harder in my ears. I flail, coming dangerously close to kicking Sven in the gut.

He throws his hands up. "Ronnie, it's me! It's okay, it's me!"

Yes. It's him. His robotic facade still hangs over me as I lay paralyzed on that polished wooden floor.

"It was just a nightmare. You're fine."

A nightmare.... I pause in my attempt to break away from the covers, finally letting my surroundings sink in.

I'm in bed. I'm safe. And I'm the robotic one, I realize as the events of earlier this morning flood my brain. Sven, brought to his knees because he thought he was weak for needing a little love. Him slipping the ring back on my fingers, rising to his feet, kissing me. The way I'd glanced out the window, noting how clear our reflections were against the darkness outside, and decided that we had time before we had to be at work. The way I'd pushed him toward the bedroom.

I didn't mean to fall asleep.

It all rushes back in at once, ending in one final thought that sends me leaping toward the closet. "Today is the release."

Sven watches as I fling clothes out of the closet and over the back of the chair by the desk, looking lost. I hear the rustle of covers as he gets out of bed, still tenderly palpating his forehead, and frowns at me.

"What's Darwin?"

I freeze, halfway through taking a shirt off its hanger. "Darwin?"

He shrugs. "You were saying it in your sleep just before I woke you up, it seemed important."

I shiver as the eerie, desolate atmosphere of that hallway creeps back up on me. I can almost smell the blood from the battlefield outside.

"Ron? Are you okay?"

I shake myself. "Yeah. I don't know what Darwin means. I don't even remember the dream." I turn around and start throwing on my clothes. "Come on. We're late. On release day. Everyone's probably going crazy."

Sven chuckles. "When you're marrying the CEO, you can get there at whatever time you want."

I roll my eyes and give him an unamused look. "Not today."

He smiles. "Love you."

The corner of my mouth tugs up, and I remember this morning's confession with a small twinge of guilt. "I love you, too."

*    *    *

I arrive at the office ready for the final showdown. I even discreetly set an alarm on my phone while Sven drove us in, to remind myself to text him something sweet during the day. I know him, and though he doesn't expect others to live by certain stereotypes—admires them for shunning them, actually—he still holds himself to their standards. One of those things is remaining strong at all times, because it's expected of his muscular, Norse lineage. Breaking down to me took more strength than he'll ever admit, and I wish I could tell him that and have him believe me—but he never will, so I'll settle for listening. The least I can do, after he opened his heart, is try to be better.

It's not a lot to ask.

As he walks me off the elevator and to my desk, I wonder if I should reverse the roles. Turn around and march him right back and take him to the top floor, and tell him to have a great day and not to get too caught up in work because I'll be waiting for him when the evening hits.

But my thoughts all fly right out of my ears when I arrive at my desk, only to find the other side of it completely empty. I glance around in confusion. It's launch day. Davis would be here if he could. But it's not only that; it's the utter lack of decoration on his half of the desk, the missing xkcd comics that he kept taped to the divider; the square of clear desk surrounded by dust, where the second edition of Code Complete used to sit; the disorganized sprawl of lost and found and promptly forgotten pens has disappeared, and the charge cable for his T4 that he always keeps plugged in just in case is now only an empty outlet.

"Where's Davis?" I ask.

"Davis...." Sven shifts his weight, slipping his hands into his pockets. His shoulders raise. "I...had to let Davis go."

I'm about to screech "What?!" loudly enough to catch the attention of everyone buried in their work, but I catch myself when I remember our conversation on the drive home from the keynote. Maybe this shouldn't be a surprise.

I remember what he said yesterday—give it back—and my decision to take Sven back solidifies. If I needed further proof, it's in Davis's bare desk. His knowledge of relationships doesn't extend past one-night stands.

"I know it's terrible timing," Sven sighs, then shrugs. "Out of my hands. I'm sorry."

I just give him a small smile. "Just doing what you had to do."

His phone rings, and he fishes around in his pocket. "Better go," he says giving me an apologetic wave.

I sit down, take my computer out of my bag, and log in. Then I stare at the empty desk beside me. In computer science, there's a concept called nullable values—the keyword nullable being used to specify that, at any point during execution, the variable could vanish into nothing.

No one ever marks the people in your life nullable. That's why I can't take my eyes away from Davis's desk. He's always been a constant, and his sudden lack of presence feels like a missing limb.

I grab my coffee cup and stand up. As I head toward the kitchen, the door to the stairwell bursts open and almost catches me right in the nose.

"Ronnie, what the hell are you doing here?"

I blink. Davis gazes back at me, looking remarkably presentable and nonchalant for someone newly fired.

"What am I doing here?" I repeat. "What are you doing here?"

"Clearing out."

I open my mouth, but nothing comes out. He seems way too fine with everything. Does that mean he knows he deserved it? Whatever Sven couldn't tell me before, it seems like it's come to a head now. Whatever investigation was ongoing, it must have concluded that Davis is guilty, and the thought makes me wary.

"Ronnie, why are you here?"

What? "I work here."

"But after yesterday...."

I reach up to brush a lock of hair off my forehead, and he trails off midsentence as his eyes catch the gleam of my ring.

"What did you do?" he whispers.

I pull my hand away from my head, hating the way his gaze makes me want to hide it away behind my back. "I wouldn't expect you to understand," I murmur, remembering how easily he told me to give Sven his ring back and leave him.

"There's a good reason for that," he says.

"Why were you fired?" I change the subject, asking a little more forcefully than I intended because my private life is mine and not his, and I don't need judgment from someone who doesn't know how to make a relationship last longer than one night. "I'm trying to give you the benefit of the doubt, but I don't know anymore, Davis. Is it because of all the women? Or is there a different reason you're sleazy?"

When I finish there's a moment of silence. "First of all," he finally says, and he seems to be struggling to keep his voice steady, "calling me sleazy is a hell of a way to thank me for yesterday. And second, I wasn't fired, Ronnie, I quit."

I stare at him. My first instinct is to feel guilty, because he's right. I owe him at least a thank you for trying to defend me yesterday before I understood what Sven was going through. But then I zero in on the last sentence and scrunch up my face, because it doesn't add up. "You quit. Right," I quip with dry skepticism. "Why would Sven lie about that?"

"Because that's what he does!" Davis throws his arms out, one giant shrug as if he's giving up on the whole world. "It's the same reason that if you ask him about any relationship before you, he'll say he dumped them, whether or not it's true. The guy can't lose. And apparently, he considers getting walked out on a loss."

My mouth falls open.

"You know that's a bad idea, right?" Davis continues, pointing at my hand. "You know he's going to turn on you next. I know you've heard the way he talks about all his exes—'this one had a drug problem, so I dumped him,' 'she had a drinking problem, so I dumped her'—what are you going to be? The one who got dumped because you didn't want a third person in your monogamous marriage? That's f—"

I square my shoulders and lift my chin, despite shoving my hand back into my pocket. "I'm different," I interrupt quietly. "I'm not like those people."

Slowly, he nods, backing a step toward the elevators. "Yeah," he says. "At least they figured it out."

I tag along behind him as he presses the button and waits. "You want to know why I stayed with him? Because I remembered what you said. And then I remembered that your definition of 'relationship' is waking up next to someone whose name you don't know and kicking them out."

The elevator dings and the door slides open, but Davis studies me for a moment longer before stepping inside.

"We have more in common than you think," he says just as it starts to close.

I shove my hand through the gap, causing it to spring back open. "What does that mean?"

He stares at me. Neither of us move to stop the door from closing this time, and the noise of the office fades away as it locks us inside the elevator.

"Nothing," he says after a moment, then shakes his head. "It doesn't mean anything."

My gaze lingers on him, but after a moment, I reach for the panel. My finger hovers over the door open button, and then a sudden shudder runs through me.

I turn to Davis, feeling ever so slightly off-kilter, like my right shoulder weighs more than the left. An alarming tinge of red creeps into the edges of my vision, drawing an eerie halo around his face.

I stutter forward a step, and then reality begins to glitch just like it did in my dream this morning—lines pulling left and right, snapping and crackling like an old television set. Images start to flash in front of me like flipping channels, too quickly for me to discern who is in them or where they take place.

Then they even out. A clear blue sky swirls above, blasting me with sunlight so that I squint in pain. A finger pushes the metal panel of an elevator, in a spot where a button shouldn't be, and a circle lights up underneath. A heavy metal clang erupts from behind me as I fall to my hands and knees on cold, damp concrete. A fuzzy, human form leans over me, silhouetted by a bright white light from behind.

"Ronnie!" Davis's voice snaps me out of it, and I realize I still haven't pressed the button. I stare at my fingers, at the two arrows pointing away from each other. Just open the doors and get out, I reason, but my eyes drift to the left.

The elevator panel looks exactly like the one in the visions. I wouldn't normally pay it any mind, because elevators are pretty generic and one looks just like the next, but this one has always been weird because the button for the ground floor isn't labeled with a "G," but a "B," for basement. It's because the stairs on the street outside actually lead down into the building, unlike its neighbors, and so the first floor is technically a basement. The floor above it is the first story that was built above the ground line.

I hesitate. Some of the visions have come true. What if this one will, too? What if they all come true, eventually?

I shudder at the thought. Because if they do, then I become a murderer, and eventually I become desperate enough to try to kill Sven.

I wouldn't do that, I tell myself. I love him. He's kind, and caring, and honest. Brutally honest, even when the truth hurts, like when he told me he felt like I didn't care enough.

Stop being silly.

But no matter how much I repeat the mantra, I have to know. If I reach to the left and nothing happens, I'll look like an idiot, but I'll know they're just dreams.

And if something does happen...?

Before I can think it, I jab my hand at the empty space next to the "B" button, expecting it to give way at least a little. I jam my finger when it doesn't, but I don't have time to process the pain because the lights overhead go out, leaving us in inky blackness.

I glance toward Davis, only to find him inseparable from the dark. "What did you do?" he whispers, too loud in the silence.

We both watch as a circle beneath the metal begins to glow orange. "I don't know."

{

Guys! Somewhere in this chapter, this story officially became a novella! I think. At least, the Google doc I work out of is over 20,000 words now. 🤗

A huge THANK YOU to everyone who's read, commented, voted, etc — I'm honored to have you as a part of this journey :)

}